Calling All Angels
by pdljmpr6
Summary: "Hurry, Nate," Eliot mumbled and he lost the battle with unconsciousness before he could be sure he'd been heard. - Eliot is trapped and the team can't get to him. Hurt/comfort, angst and medical BS, oh my! T for bad words. Written for whimseyrhodes
1. Wreck of the Day

**A/N: **I swear I haven't forgotten my other fics and am actively working on continuing them. But when **whimseyrhodes **PMd me asking me to write this, I just couldn't refuse and it turned into something of a fic exchange between us because we are both such huge admirers of each other's work. Interestingly, both of our fics have titles with the word 'angels' in them...great minds, as they say. But seriously, whimseyrhodes is amazing, my fic hero, and does hurt/comfort like no one else. If you like to see Eliot put through hell for no reason other than our own amusement and see it done _well_ you should look her up. It's unbeated, but I tried to catch all the mistakes. Enjoy! -pj

**whimseyrhodes **- _This one's for you! For writing fantastic fics and being my kindred spirit. For making me laugh out loud one minute, fight tears the next and scream at my computer screen throughout it all. I'm honored you asked me. Luvya!_

* * *

**Chapter One – Wreck of the Day**

Eliot swallowed a scream of pain as tears sprang to his eyes.

_~Eliot? You okay?~_

A concerned voice came across the coms and he gasped a few times as the pain subsided. Maybe he hadn't done as good a job at hiding it as he thought.

_~Oh yeah. He's just buried under a building and ten tons of rock and debris, Hardison. I'm sure he's great.~_ Someone answered for him, Eliot was too hazy to know for sure who, but he was glad they had. He was too busy trying to clear white spots from his vision and make his stomach stay put to try and talk anyway.

_~Eliot? What are you doing?~_ He assumed that was Sophie by the delicate English cadence of the voice. _~It…it sounds like you're moving.~_

Eliot grunted, pulling himself forward another fraction of an inch, and more white hot pain shot up his leg and flared across his back. He drew in a few harsh breaths of dusty air that made him cough, ratcheting up the pain from his back to his chest and stomach.

"I can see light," Eliot rasped, ignoring how weak his voice sounded and the way his heart was pounding in his head, "tryin' ta get to it," he coughed and gasped as the thick air tickled his lungs and the back of his throat.

_~No!~_ Nate exclaimed in his ear, causing Eliot to groan audibly.

"Dammit Nate," he muttered, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on a cool piece of bent steal wedged beneath him.

_~Wait, does he mean like 'a light' or 'THE light'?~_ That was definitely Hardison. _~Yo, Eliot, stay away from the light man. All of 'em.~_

_~Eliot Eliot, listen to me. Don't. Move. Okay?~ _Nate interrupted, using that loud, 'I'm on the com' voice again. If Eliot's body hadn't been aching so badly he would have been irritated at him for it. ~_You're injured and the beams holding most of that building off of you aren't stable. You'll only make things worse if you try to get yourself out, okay?~_

Eliot couldn't even find the energy to argue, because suddenly it was requiring all his focus just to keep the world from getting black around the edges.

_~Eliot? Eliot! Answer me!~_

"I'll be here, Nate," Eliot mumbled and he lost the battle with unconsciousness before he could be sure he'd been heard.

_~We're coming, Eliot. We're coming.~_

_oooOOOooo_

"Eliot answer me," Nate's voice was nearly hoarse from talking. This hitter hadn't responded in nearly twenty minutes and Nate had only paused in calling out to him in that time long enough to allow Hardison to update the team or walk Sophie through the details of the con.

The grifter and Parker were out in the mess of what used to be a busy LA street, wearing a couple official looking windbreakers, trying to speed up the rescue effort for Eliot.

In front of him Hardison had three laptops were spread out on the hotel table and the TV was tuned to the local news. The hacker was busy giving Sophie and Parker the creds they would need to direct a team to Eliot's position while keeping tabs on all the emergency frequencies in the area and trying to get a more accurate read on Eliot's location.

"Eliot are you there? Talk to me Eliot," Nate continued pacing the length of the hotel room, one eye on the TV for news updates, the other on the steady pulsing green dot on Hardison's laptop that indicated the hitter's position.

_~Okay, we're here.~ _Parker's voice came through the com._  
_

Hardison switched to another computer, ignoring his now warm bottle of Orange Soda, leaving it untouched.

"The guy you're looking for is Roman Martinez. He's in charge of dispatching rescue crews, um," he pulled up a photo and bio, "mid fifties. Glasses, ex-military and recently divorced."

_~Got him.~_ Sophie switched her com to 'mute' as she approached the mark, not wanting her voice to be needlessly filling the frequency if Eliot responded.

A moment later Hardison turned to Nate, switching off his own com so as not to be overheard.

"It's been nearly an hour since the quake, Nate. You really think he could still be…" Hardison trailed off, looking both hopeful and uncertain.

Nate sighed, bringing a tumbler of whiskey to his lips.

"Eliot can you hear me?"

oooOOOooo

Eliot awoke from the inside out. He was aware first of the pain. It hit him like a punch to the solar plexus as soon as his brain began firing normally again and he drew in a heaving breath, only to cough it back up when the dusty air hit his lungs.

The spasm of coughing was a vicious, cruelly ironic cycle of pain the likes of which he honestly couldn't remember dealing with before. The harder he coughed, the more debris laden air he pulled in and the more dust he inhaled the more he coughed. Each spasm caused pain to explode across his chest and up into his head, sweat broke out on his brow and bright spots danced across his eyes.

Finally, after what felt like millennia, he managed to stop coughing long enough to get his breath back under control. He took a few moments to rest but found that all too quickly the pain of pulsating lungs and grinding ribs faded into the background and the rest of his injuries came into dizzying clarity.

His attention was first pulled to his legs. They both hurt, but one hurt like _hell. _Unable to resist, Eliot pried open his eyes, not remembering having closed them, and looked down. The sight that met him was the closest to an out of body experience that he'd ever had.

While his left leg throbbed in time with his rapid - more rapid by the moment - heartbeat, that pain paled in comparison to what his right felt like.

Or should have felt like.

Almost his entire pant leg and part of his untucked flannel shirt were stained reddish brown. Even in his concussed, look-at-the-pretty-colors haze, Eliot had no doubt that it was blood. A lot of it. Movement caught his eye and he glanced down to the puddle of matching reddish brown liquid forming below him. It happened again and Eliot saw that the blood was dripping like a leaky faucet from his jeans, creating slow, eerie ripples in the pool of blood every few seconds.

He wondered why the blood was _dripping_ down instead of simply soaking through his jeans.

And that was when he realized that long metal pole he'd been ignoring, trying to see around to get a better look at his injury, wasn't next to his leg.

It was speared straight through it.

The three foot piece of metal held the limb suspended off the ground in a position that history would undoubtedly call 'the human shish kabob'.

If Eliot hadn't been so tired he might have laughed.

Distantly, he knew the sight of his impaled and still bleeding thigh ought to worry him more than it did. Or at the very least it ought to hurt more.

But the fact that it was completely numb, almost like it wasn't _his _leg at all, was a welcome realization. One less thing to worry about. Because between the constantly floating, the almost-too-thick-to-see air and the incessant buzzing coming from his right ear, Eliot figured he had plenty to worry about already.

That and the fact that he was cold. So very fucking cold. He hadn't been this cold since that damn prison in Serbia where the guards took all his clothes and put him in a concrete cell with no insulation to speak of. Damn guards.

His teeth started to chatter and his eyes felt heavy. But still there was that annoying, insistent buzzing from somewhere inside his head. There was something important about that buzzing...

Eliot felt a tickle on his cheek and tried to reach up to swipe at it. He frowned when his left hand did not respond to the command and enough pain shot up his arm enough at the thought of movement to make him gasp and nearly start another coughing fit.

_Fine,_ he thought petulantly, though he wasn't sure if the words actually made it through his lips. He switched the command to his other arm and was satisfied that his right hand complied. He found a trail of warm, slick something was the culprit of the annoying tickle and he followed it up from his cheek to his hairline and into his hair, only to yank his hand away again when his fingers touched a tender spot.

He looked curiously at his red stained fingers, wondering where that blood had come from, before deciding it hurt his head too much to think about right now. 

_Maybe later_.

Eliot's eyelids started to grow heavy again and he wrapped his functioning arm around his torso, still trying to get warm.

The comforting blackness of oblivion tugged at the edges of his mind and he so wanted to follow, but was snatched back from the brink again when he thought he heard his name being called. Only from close. Very close.

Inside his head.

_Damn guards and their damn mind games,_ Eliot thought. This time he didn't fight it when the darkness tried to claim him and he relished in the silence.

* * *

_TBC __  
_


	2. If I Die Young

**A/N: **And we're back for the continuation of the ride! Huge thanks to all of you reviewers out there, some of the most enthusiastic responses I"ve ever gotten! Enjoy! -pj

By the way, my writing is inspired a lot by music and this fic is as well.

Title: _Calling All Angels_ by _Train  
_Ch1: _Wreck of the Day_ by_ Anna Nalik_  
This Chapter: _If I Die Young_ by _The Band Perry_

**whimseyrhodes **- _You make me laugh. You make me cry. You have me compulsively checking my email every six minutes throughout the day...LYLAS!_

**Disclaimer**: I forgot. My bad. Still, nothing mentioned here is mine. Not even whimseyrhodes. She is claimed by the furchins. _  
_

* * *

**Chapter Two – If I Die Young**

Sophie swallowed hard and blinked back tears. She never let her emotions get the better of her on a con.

But this wasn't just any con. There was much more than her rep and a few diamonds at stake this time. This time Eliot, one of her own, was the prize for a good performance.

She threw her hands in the air in frustration, "Are you kidding me? There's a man down there, _alive_. We need to get him out and I don't mean later!"

Roman Alvarez was red in the face, barely controlled rage vibrating through him. He was one man, _dammit_. The city was in shambles and he had almost a hundred firemen and police officers and engineers reporting to him, trying to organize a safe rescue effort. He was beyond stressed, hadn't had anything but coffee and gum since the quake and his cell phone hadn't stopped ringing.

And this government lap dog thought she could come down here and start calling shots?

He gripped his walkie talkie with white knuckles and took a step closer, sirens, crying and local media creating a symphony of chaos around them.

"There are _hundreds _of people trapped, ma'am. Now I don't know how things work at FEMA, but here _I_ call the shots and we're just spread too thin right now to try looking for one man. Besides this building is unstable, it could come down any minute and I'm not going to risk more lives by sending guys in there before we're given the 'go ahead', he thrust a hand toward a white tent sitting a few yards away, "We've got engineers who are working as fast as they can to find a way to shore up the collapsed buildings. When they say it's safe, and _only_ when they say, we'll start S&R." He was about to stalk away when he saw those were tears shining in the brunette's eyes and he paused.

Roman sighed, taking a deep breath as he ran a hand through his thinning grey hair and down over his face. His wife used to give him that look.

"Alright," he continued, his voice softening ever so slightly, "just tell me, how do you know this guy is down there?"

"He called me."

Alvarez narrowed his already small brown eyes and frowned, "you personally? Or this guy has FEMA's number on speed dial?"

Sophie's eyes widened, realizing her mistake, "well, I-"

"He's her brother. He was here on business," Parker jumped in for the first time. Sophie had told her once the best way to convince someone you weren't lying was to tell the truth, or as close to it as possible. She was pleased to see the tactic was probably working, as Alvarez stopped looking so suspicious and nodded in sympathy.

"I'll let you know as soon as we know something, okay?" He turned back toward the collapsed building looming in front of them, his radio up at his mouth as he barked out orders and asked for updates.

Less than two hours ago this structure had been a five story shopping mall and Eliot was inside casing the shady third floor jeweler with the 'not quite real' diamonds.

Now it was a barely two story pile of broken concrete and steel, still smoking from small fires that had been put out a few minutes before.

And somewhere, underneath it all, was Eliot. Alone and hurt. Maybe even…

Sophie didn't bother blinking back her tears this time.

oooOOOooo

Eliot's eyes flew open and his whole body went tense as a board.

His leg was on _fire_.

Immediately the pain was crashing into him, sharp and demanding and crushing every corner of his being so that he couldn't pinpoint where it originated. It seemed to emanate from outside, from all around him, folding him in suffocating, terrifying white agony until he couldn't breathe.

He tried to scream, find an outlet for the pain so that it would not kill him, but his throat was too raw for it to make any real noise. He found himself more frustrated by that than he was frightened.

After a few seconds of trying not to gasp or move, Eliot closed his eyes pushing the pain back and far enough away to allow his brain to form thoughts more complex than _hell ouch hurts fuck need ouch ouch fuck_.

The air was thick with dirt and dust in near darkness that seemed to be rushing at him from the same place as the pain. The stench of sweat and blood was thicker than before, as if the air had just settled there around him instead of moving on and allowing fresh air to take it's place. He could feel the desperation and decay coating his skin, settling heavy on his tongue, and taste it sliding back in his throat.

Eliot barely had time to turn his head to keep from choking on his own vomit as the panic clashed violently with his rolling stomach.

Immediately after he turned his face away and closed his eyes. The smell of the mess he'd just made mingled with the stagnant air of his small Cubby Hole of Hell and he swallowed convulsively to keep from having a repeat performance.

He was able to take exactly two deep breaths before sound suddenly dropped back in, bringing him fully out of the haze, and he realized his headache was concentrated on his right side.

He coughed. "I'm back Nate, you can quit yellin'."

It came out as a whisper but the collective sigh of relief in his ear told him he'd been heard.

_~Eliot. It's good to hear your voice.~_ Nate sounded tired and hoarse.

A chorus from the team agreed with Nate's statement and Eliot grunted in response, focusing on breathing through another bout of nausea.

"When can I get out of here, Nate?" He asked after a moment, and stayed silent while he was updated on what the team was doing to rescue him.

His usually unflappable focus seemed to have taken the day off and he found his thoughts wandering away from Nate's voice and toward what his brain apparently felt were more pressing matters. Namely, a more clinical assessment of his injuries, since _pain leg pain hand pain head pain everywhere_ was not telling him much.

Eliot was coherent enough now to know he hadn't been before, so a fairy severe concussion was a given. His left hand arm, so he didn't bother it and used his good one to feel down his body, looking for signs of internal bleeding or infection.

A row of cracked ribs adorned his left side, damage to his pelvis though he couldn't be more specific from this prone position, bruising his daddy would have been proud of all over and dried blood around his 'leg wound'. A dangerous amount of dried blood.

He grunted, unhappy at that realization and turned his attention to his left hand. Using his right, he carefully lifted the unresponsive limb into what little light he had filtering in from the hole above his head.

The entire hand, from wrist to fingertips was swollen to the point of immobility, turning interesting shades of red and purple. It had obviously been crushed under something during the quake and he'd be ecstatic if there were _any _bones still intact there. Eliot's brow was furrowed in concentration as he carefully tucked his hand into his shirt, cradling it protectively against his chest. Outside, a cloud passed over the sun, lowering the light around him considerably and Eliot closed his eyes against the darkness pushing in on him, refocusing on Nate's voice.

"Yeah Nate, I'm still here," he sighed, "I was just a little…distracted."

There was a pause over the coms.

_~How bad?~_ Nate asked solemnly.

Eliot just grunted, not seeing what good detailing his laundry list of injuries over the open com, where the rest of the team was undoubtedly listening, would do him.

Nate seemed to understand his reluctance to answer and didn't push.

_~Okay. I need you to keep talking, Eliot. I need you to stay awake.~ _

Eliot shook his head minutely, feeling the world swim even from that small movement.

"I'll try. No promises though."

_~Yeah.~_ Came Nate's quiet response and Eliot could almost see him lifting a glass of Bourbon to his lips for a drink.

_~Sophie and I are out here Eliot.~_ Parker's voice suddenly rang out in his head. _~We're coming for you. Just hang on, Sparky.~_

_~And I'm gonna have a Med Evac Chopper standing by to airlift you out of there as soon as they get you out, okay?~ _Hardison promised.

Eliot sighed and nodded his thanks, aware that no one could see him.

"So what do ya'll want me to talk about?"

oooOOOooo

"Eliot?" Nate said loudly, causing Hardison to jump, "c'mon now. What happened next?"

_~Uh – um where was I?~_ Eliot's groggy voice came across the line. Nate and Hardison exchanged a worried glance.

"Wyoming," Nate prompted, his empty tumbler clutched firmly between his hands where he sat next to Hardison at the table, "you drew a bull no one could ride."

_~Oh. Right~_ Eliot responded slowly.

Nate got up to pace away some of his nervous energy. Eliot had been growing quieter over the last few minutes and the pauses between phrases were getting progressively longer.

"Stay with me Eliot. Talk."

Suddenly Hardison cursed and Nate whirled around to see the hacker standing, staring at the TV as the building Eliot was trapped in shifted with the roll of a small aftershock, allowing a few tons of brick to fall further down into the rubble.

"Fuck," Nate whispered.

oooOOOooo

"_Fuck_!" Eliot roared as the heavy wooden beam that had been propped precariously over him moved and dislodged. It feel right over him, pressing across his chest and pinning his crushed hand, though that was the least of his worries.

In a panic Eliot tried to push the beam off him, kicking out his legs for leverage. The movement pulled at injuries he hadn't even known about and sent shooting white pain up from the ones he did and he was on fire again, sweat pouring down his face and back from the exertion.

But it was no use. The beam would not budge. Eliot could feel it slowly crushing him, grinding his already broken ribs further into one another and constricting what little lung movement he'd had even as the last of his outside light faded.

"Nate," he gasped, his blood pumping so hard he couldn't hear the mastermind's response, "I can't breathe, Nate. It's too dark and I can't breathe."

* * *

_TBC__ - *gasp* What did I just do? *smacks hand* Bad fic writer. Bad! *Hugs Eliot* I sowy...*grins maniacally*...kinda...  
_


	3. LA Song

**A/N:** Okay. I was gonna wait for **whimseyrhodes **to update HER fic before I did mine...but she's bein' pokey and my inbox is lonely, so, my dear whimsey, consider this a bribe, m'kay? For everyone else, been loving your reviews, seriously. Keep it up and enjoy! -pj

_LA Song _by _Christian Kane_

For **whismeryrhodes **- _the lady that does Eliot like no one else. (Haha, that's not what I meant! Get your minds out of the gutter!) _

* * *

**Chapter Three – L.A. Song**

_~I can't breathe, Nate. It's too dark and I can't breathe.~ _

The desperation and _fear _in Eliot's voice unnerved Parker to her very core. It hurt her.

She didn't like that.

Before Nate could respond Parker found herself talking. She pressed a finger to her ear, itching to reach through the com and to get to Eliot.

"It's okay, Eliot. Just breathe slow, Sparky, you'll be okay. Just a little bit longer before we get to you." She said, much calmer than she'd anticipated.

_~Parker? I-I can't-~_

"Yes you can, Eliot," Parker interrupted, unable to stand the gasping, panicky tone of his voice. "C'mon, breathe with me. Inhale," she took an exagerated deep breath, "exhale," and let it out slow.

"Like riding a swing. Inhale. Exhale."

After several minutes Eliot's breathing was in time with hers and he assured her he was calm, having reconciled his situation and in the headspace that allowed him to deal with it.

Parker allowed Nate to take over the coms and wandered over to where an impromptu snack station had been set up for the busy emergency workers to get a cup of coffee, allowing them to stay awake for the long night ahead.

She was surprised to see her hand was shaking when she handed Sophie her cup. She wrapped them around around her own cup, telling herself it was just from a lack of electrolytes because of eating 'nothing but cereal and licorice' like Eliot always said.

_God, Eliot. _

She really hoped she hadn't been lying to him when she said everything would be okay.

Sophie took a sip of coffee, blue and red and yellow lights dancing across her pale face as she stood staring at the precariously balanced building.

"Good job, Parker," she turned and smiled slightly at the blonde and Parker pursed her lips together in something that was supposed to be a smile in return. Sophie reached out and clasped her hand to the thief's', squeezing it slightly, sure that Parker wasn't aware of the tears standing in her eyes.

"We're going to get to him. Okay, sweetie? He's going to be just fine."

oooOOOooo

_Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. _

Eliot continued Parker's mantra in his head. In truth, it did little to help control his anxiety level, but it got his mind off the pain so he figured that made it worth it.

All his collective injuries had dulled into something of a fuzzy, full body throb and was no longer his first concern.

The darkness, on the other hand…

He he kept his eyes shut. Keeping his eyes closed helped.

Some.

But not much.

Because the whole key to getting over his claustrophobia as a child had been the simple knowledge that the darkness couldn't hurt him. The walls weren't _actually _closing in and he was _not _going to suffocate.

That wasn't the case this time. He was trapped under a building, pinned by a beam that seemed hell bent of giving him a slow, crushing death. And at any moment the walls could _literally _close in on him just like he'd always feared.

He was going to die in this tiny concrete coffin and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

_~You're not gonna die, Eliot.~_

Eliot opened his eyes in surprise and then closed them again.

"Nate?"

_~Naw, man, it's Alec. Nate went to back up the girls with the Search Coordinator.~ _

Eliot grunted, distracted by the cool, tingly feeling suddenly flowing through his veins.

~_Eliot? What's wrong, man? Your breathing changed.~_

"You can tell something's wrong by the way I'm breathing?" he muttered, trying to distract both Hardison and himself. His heart was trip-hammering in his chest and he screwed his eyes shut tighter. He tried to swallow but his mouth was impossibly dry and a cold sweat spread across his face and neck.

_~It's a very distinctive way of breathing.~_ Hardison quipped, but the humor was short lived, _~C'mon man, what is it?"~_

Eliot must have been more frightened than he realized, because it didn't even cross his mind to lie.

"I…I can't feel my legs."

The incessant tap-tapping of Hardison working on his computer stopped suddenly and Eliot heard a muffled curse.

_~W-we're coming, Eliot. Just hold on a little longer, okay? We're coming just hold on.~_

Eliot clamped his eyes shut fighting the wave of cold and the tug of black and hoping 'a little longer' didn't turn out to be too long.

_Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale._

oooOOOooo

_Breathe, _Hardison thought frantically, _just breathe. _

"Nate," he said, his voice trembling ever so slightly, "Eliot doesn't sound so good. We need to get him out of there like _now, _man."

_~Yeah I know, Hardison but we're getting some trouble from a few of the rescue workers. It's chaos down here.~_

Hardison didn't doubt it, in the background of Nate's voice he could hear shouting and generators and big diesel engines being revved and moving into place.

_~How bad is he?~_

He sighed, glancing at the blinking green dot on his third laptop screen.

"He…he says he can't feel his legs, Nate."

There was a long pause and Hardison waited, hoping to hear an instant solution, knowing he wouldn't.

_~Understood. Stay with him, Hardison.~_

oooOOOooo

Eliot blinked languidly up at the darkness. His head was full of cotton and his body was numb. The lack of sensation was bliss compared to the torture of his pulsating injuries from before.

He knew the cold and the numb and the darkness creeping in from the edges of his mind should worry him. But it didn't.

He didn't want to worry anymore. He was always worrying.

It was exhausting.

Eliot stared up at the hole above him. Earlier it had held his only light source, a small patch of the cheery blue LA sky.

Now it was black, like everything else, but every now and then he could see flashes of blue and red catching on the corners of rough edges and rock above him. He clung to those brief flashes like the lifeline they were.

His eyelids dropped again and his tongue fought clumsily with his teeth to force words through chapped lips.

"N-nate," he croaked, "Nate I-" He paused, out of breath from the exertion of those few words.

"Nate," he said again, stronger, "hurry, Nate."

oooOOOooo

"Sophie," Nate ran up to the brunette, pushing through the crowd of people and flashing his fake badge to get across the yellow 'caution' tape, "any word?"

Sophie shook her head slightly, sniffing and while Nate noticed that her eyes were too bright, he didn't comment.

"The engineers are still working on it they're not sure-"

Parker appeared from nowhere behind them. "They're finished. They think they have the building stabilized."

Nate whipped around to face the structure and Sophie actually clapped. "They're going in?"

"Agent Nevins."

Sophie turned toward the voice, "Yes, Mr. Alvarez, you're ready to move forward?"

The older man nodded, looking haggard after the several long hours since the quake, he was moving past them to the group of reporters standing behind the tape, "we just got the green light, they're starting in now." He paused in his purposeful stride and turned back, lowering his voice slightly, "I hope your brother is alright."

Sophie nodded and the three of them looked toward the rubble of the shopping mall, lit up like day by huge floodlights as the wind coming off the ocean picked up.

"Yeah," Sophie whispered, lifting her chin and taking a deep breath, "Me too."

oooOOOooo

Hardison stopped on the third floor of the hospital parking garage. He would rather have been at the accident site with the others, but knew they would be able to get a ride on the helicopter and LA traffic was not conducive to emergencies even at the best of times.

He sat in the driver's seat, staring out the windshield at the Los Angeles skyline. At this point, his job was over. He'd set the team up with identities for when they got to the hospital. He had a chopper on standby. He was at the hospital. The team was with Eliot.

Now all he could do was wait. There was nothing to hack. No one to con and no where else to go.

The silence over the coms was oppressive.

"Eliot, man, I don't know if you can hear me, but we're on our way. We're coming for you."

He sighed, rubbing his hands over the steering wheel.

"I know we've been saying that for hours now, but I mean it," he was surprised when his breath caught and closed his eyes when they started to sting, "I mean it for real this time Eliot."

He leaned his head down on the steering wheel and bit his lip.

"I mean it."

* * *

TBC - _*gives evil eye to my inbox* _Where's my update?


	4. This Ain't Goodbye

**A/N: **So I guess _**whimseyrhodes **_has decided to abandon us for the call of the open road on the back of a steal horse. Can't say that I blame her. Can say I'm thoroughly jealous, but I wont. I will, however, keep Eliot all to myself and not share, so there! lol. Now I'm just being petty. This is still for my sista' from anotha' mista **_whimseyrhodes _**and wherever she is, I hope she's having a little fun for me! Thanks, HUGE thanks to everyone who is reviewing this, makes me feel like less of a slacker for not updating 'Always Had A Reason'. lol. Unbeta'd! Enjoy -pj

_This Ain't Goodbye _by_ Train_

**Disclaimer**: If they were mind ELIOT WOULD HAVE HAD SOMEONE TO DANCE WITH! Namely...me. ;)_  
_

* * *

**Chapter Four - This Ain't Goodbye**

The sky was starting to turn pale shades of pink and grey as the dawn ushered in a new day. And while the rescue workers were still bustling around busy and strained, there was something different on the air. A feeling of hope and determination, instead of anguish, that was a comfort to most of the onlookers.

All except three.

Parker threw her hands in the air as another ambulance drove away.

"It's been hours!" she exclaimed, turning an angry look toward the building and the throngs of firemen and paramedics milling around, sifting through the ruins. "They haven't found him yet?"

"Be patient, Parker. He was on his way out when the quake hit," Nate reminded them, a Styrofoam cup of cold coffee in hand, "he was at the base of the building-"

"Found somebody!" One of the firemen shouted from within the rubble and there was a flurry of activity as the workers all flocked toward the man. He was strapped into a harness on a crane being lowered into a small cavern of debris that had been cleared away.

_"It's a man. He's alive."_ The man's voice didn't carry across the air but was transmitted across all of the radios that had been dispatched, including the one Nate held_. "He looks to be hurt pretty bad...Christ!"_ he exclaimed and they winced, eyes glued to the center of the action, though none of them could quite bring themselves to move.

_"He's got some kind of pole going straight through his leg and-"_

Sophie gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, reaching out to grip Nate's arm with both hands. "Oh Eliot," she whispered.

_"Dave, I'm gonna need a saw to cut through this beam, and I'm gonna need to shore it up before we remove it or he'll be crushed." _

Parker's jaw dropped open slightly and she took a few steps forward, only to stop again, realizing there was nothing she could do.

"Hardison," Nate said quietly, when he saw the fireman being lowered out of sight again, chainsaw in hand, "better get that Chopper ready."

_~On it.~_

If they noticed the strange thick quality of the Hacker's voice they didn't comment. Instead, all eyes remained glued to the wire hanging from the crane as communications were momentarily severed by the whine of a chainsaw.

_"Alright, Dave, lower me that stretcher, this guys in real bad shape."_ There was some rustling and it took a moment for them to realize that the next words were not directed to anyone outside the hole, but to the one man that was inside with him.

_"Hey, son, you're gonna be just fine, alright? We're gonna get you to a hospital in no time. You got a name?" _There was a pause and in their ears they could just barely here the hitter whisper his name.

_"Nice to meet you, Eliot. My name's Terrell." _

Parker huffed, and before anyone could stop her she'd snatched the radio out of Nate's hand and brought it to her mouth.

"Cut the small talk and get him out of there, dammit!"

Sophie's jaw dropped and Nate angrily snatched the radio back. But they were both surprised when laughter came across the line.

_"I guess we better get you out of here, Eliot. Sounds like someone out there is a little anxious to see you."_

oooOOOooo

When Eliot faded back into reality again, everything was different.

First off, the pain had subsided. Not gone, but diluted to a manageable throb that he easily ignored.

The darkness and silence were gone. It was bright even with his eyes closed and the low _fump fump_ _fump _of Helicopter blades slicing through the air was the sum total of his auditory input. Other than that, the world seemed to be vibrating and jerking slightly to the left and right every now and then which was doing nothing for his stomach…

Wait.

_Helicopter? _

Eliot pried open his eyes, blinking repeatedly as the light attacked his Irises and made his headache sharpen.

The culture shock was a bit intense the moment his eyes were open and processing what he saw. For the past few hours his world had been reduced to dirt, silence, fear, darkness and pain.

Now, not only was there light _everywhere, _but the air was no longer constant struggle to get to. In fact, he could feel a slight wind whipping at his hair every now and then. And there were people. He counted four and confirmed the helicopter theory by their headsets and sunglasses.

He couldn't see their faces at first and didn't take time to try and figure it out as he'd discovered that, not only was one of the unknowns touching him, but Eliot couldn't seem to move his head or arms.

A slight, experimental tug confirmed that he was strapped down, a band fastening him across his forehead, shoulders, waist and just below the knees. He was completely immobile. Every warning bell and self-preserving siren he had started going off.

Eliot did _not _like being restrained.

The unknown reached up and put his hand on Eliot's chest, though the hitter couldn't make out what he said. The pressure of being held down made him thrash harder, toeing the thin but very important line between 'afraid' and 'dangerous'.

Then another face was in his line of sight. The second figure pulled off his sunglasses and it all made sense.

_Light. Helicopter. Nate._

_Rescue._

Eliot forced himself to go against instinct and relax and he saw Nate nodding in approval. The mastermind's lips moved again and Eliot frowned, his sluggish brain not quite up to the task of lip reading just yet.

He closed his eyes as another flood of drugs went into his system, deciding it didn't matter. And when his old friend Unconsciousness started pulling him under again, Eliot didn't fight it.

Nate, the team, was there.

They could hold down the fort for a while.

oooOOOooo

Hardison stood on the helipad just outside the doors. It hadn't taken much to get security to allow him up there. After all, they would never deny such a valuable donor to the hospital anything he asked for.

He started waving the group over as Nate, Sophie, Parker and two paramedics got out of the chopper. They carried Eliot to a stretcher and a handful of waiting doctors and began wheeling him inside.

They followed the gurney holding their fallen teammate as long as they could, but were forced to hang back when Eliot was rushed into the OR.

Clumsily, Hardison made his way over to a nearby bench and dropped down heavily, well aware that he was trembling and his mouth had gone dry. He'd seen Eliot after some pretty horrific fights, but never anything like this. He'd never looked like he'd _lost _before. But, he supposed, not even Eliot Spencer could come out on top after a one-on-one with five stories of metal and concrete.

"Hardison, are you alright?" Sophie sat down beside him and laid a warm hand on his shoulder, brown eyes wide with worry.

He dropped his hands and looked at her, his eyes shone too bright in the florescent lights of the hallway.

"Sophie," he croaked, "have you ever…the blood? And bruises. And his leg…" he shook his head, leaning it back agains the wall as he took a ragged breath. "So much blood, Sophie."

The grifter just nodded, lips pursed and eyes anxious, rubbing her hand soothingly up and down his arm a few times before sliding it into his and squeezing slightly.

For once in her life, Sophie didn't know what to say.

oooOOOooo

The coms had taken some getting used to. At first, having other voices in her head had unnerved Parker to the point that she would take it out routinely on the job just to be alone in her thoguths for a while.

Nate hated when she did that.

She'd gotten used to it though. It was nice, knowing someone had her back and would be there at a moment's notice if she called.

And then she'd started to like it. She could tease Eliot and Nate and not be faced with their glares or rolled eyes.

She was used to the coms. She liked them. Appreciated them. Even enjoyed them.

But she hadn't realized she _depended _on them.

Not until now. Now, standing outside the OR wing at the hospital, staring down the hallway where they had taken Eliot.

Clutching his earbud like it was the last connection she would ever have to him, it suddenly hit her.

And she wanted desperately to talk to him. To hear his rough southern drawl grumbling in her ear.

She felt Nate behind her before she heard him.

"Parker?"

"They would have found it." She started, not turning around. "It would have been fried in the MRI or the nurse doing his head stitches would've seen it and there would have been questions."

She spoke without a single waver in her voice. Without blinking. Afraid she would miss it when they wheeled Eliot back out of the OR, clean and not bloody or pale and ready to go home.

"Parker-"

"Only now we can't hear him," she interrupted the robotic tone suddenly thickening with emotion. "And he's hurt and alone and he can't hear us. He might-" she paused and cleared her throat when her voice cracked and stubbornly reached up to wipe away a few tears. "He might need us."

She heard Nate sigh, "Parker," he said again, this time almost in a whisper. A light pressure touched her shoulder and it was all she could take.

Parker whirled around and, with the same leap-then-look, both-feet-in exuberance that she attacked everything in life, she flung her arms around Nate's neck , clutching him tightly and pressing her face into the plastic-like material of his windbreaker.

Nate stiffened a moment. He could count on one hand how many times Parker had willingly hugged someone and still have fingers left over.

Then he realized she was crying.

Her shoulders weren't shaking and he couldn't feel her tears, but he knew Parker was crying.

Slowly, Nate wrapped his arms around her slight frame, whispering comfortingly into her ear. He tossed a glance to Sophie and Hardison on the other side of the hallway. Hardison was pale and clutching Sophie's hand with both of his. Sophie had tears running down her cheeks looking at him expectantly, hopefully.

Nate spoke up, loud enough for them all to hear.

"Hes going to be fine, guys. He didn't come all this way for nothing."

_TBC- I think only one more chapter guys!  
_


	5. A Beautiful Mess

**A/N:** I'm not going to talk about how long this chapter is (over 3k words, fyi). I'm not going to talk about how late it is (1am) or how effin HARD I fought to make this chapter happen (hint: really really hard). Not gonna tell you about the bruises I have from the plot bunnies kickin my butt or even about how I spent fifteen minutes on the last three paragraphs alone and am still not totally sure I got it completely right. All I'm gonna tell ya' is that _**whimseyrhodes **_is my hero and my bud and my sista from anotha' mista and my tweep and she's Awesomsauce on an EpicEnchilada and this is for her. I'm going to tell you that I really hope you like this last update and I hope to hear from you. Also, I'm going to tell you to: Enjoy! -pj

_A Beautiful Mess _by _Jason Mraz_

**Disclaimer: **No. They're not mine. Neither is **_whimseyrhodes_**, the furchins, the dustbuster or any music mentioned in this fic. _Thanks  
_

* * *

**Chapter Five- A Beautiful Mess**

The hospital had been hell.

Eliot didn't like them to begin with, Parker 'nothing'ed them, Hardison thought they were creepy, Sophie found them romantic and Nate refused to set foot in one unless he was on his third drink of the day at least.

The drugs they put Eliot on after the surgery made him lose touch with reality enough that he couldn't figure out where he was and not even Nate's commanding voice could cut through the fog.

After the third orderly he knocked flat on his ass refused to set foot in his room again the staff decided they had no choice but to put him in restraints.

And after the third time Parker cut said restraints and 'stole' him from the hospital so that Hardison had to track her down and Sophie convince her to put him back, the staff stopped allowing them in to see him.

Not that a little thing like hospital security could stop a group of the world's best thieves from doing exactly what they wanted, _when_ they wanted.

They were all there the first time Eliot regained consciousness and was coherent enough to demand, loudly, to be let out of the leather cuffs tying him to the bed.

The staff had the good sense not to argue.

But he was out of the hospital now, back at 'home' in their apartment building with all the secret passages and escape routes and state-of-the-art security.

Still, things weren't back to normal yet.

A severe head injury, broken bones, deep bruises and lacerations and a right leg healing from _extremely _invasive surgery still gave him enough pain he didn't refuse a single painkiller Sophie shoved at him. And he was starting to go stir crazy from all the 'sit, don't move, don't talk' and 'I'll get that for you's that constantly seemed to be coming out of his team's mouths.

A week into his release, Eliot was ready to climb the walls - or punch someone in the throat - and kicked them all out for their own good under penalty of slow and painful death if any returned before the morning.

Begrudgingly, they all left and Eliot heaved a sigh of relief, relishing in the silence.

Ironically, it was that same silence that woke him two hours later.

oooOOOooo

Parker had never been trapped under a collapsed building, and going out and blowing one up for the experience seemed a little excessive, even for her.

But she couldn't know how to help Eliot if she didn't know what he'd been through. So she settled for this.

Parker lay completely motionless in the small dark space under her bed. The floor was cold and hard beneath her and the dust was nearly suffocating

_Breathe in, breathe out._ she repeated her mantra to Eliot now to herself. When she inhaled fully her chest almost touched the bottom of the bed. Her leg started to cramp up but her reflex to bend it and then stretch out was halted by movement restrictions of the small space.

That was when Parker started to understand. She wasn't one to be afraid of small spaces, rather liked them actually, but she couldn't move here. Couldn't breathe and couldn't see.

Her heart rate started to speed up and her hand tightened around Eliot's com until it started to bruise.

His com had been all he could hold onto then. Their voices in his head. Her voice.

She maneuvered one hand up until it was pressing against her ear, filling her head with static. No one else had their coms on.

Parker opened her eyes and stared up at the underbelly of her bed.

It was still dark. She didn't like this. Didn't like being alone and not able to move or breathe. She wanted out. She wanted someone there with her. She wanted someone to…

Then it hit her and immediately she was wiggling out from under her bed as fast as she could move. She had to get to Eliot, she knew what to do now.

She climbed to her feet and shoved Eliot's com in her jean's pocket while reaching for the lightswitch.

Nothing happened. She tried again with the same result.

She was really starting to hate this 'dark' thing.

oooOOOooo

Hardison blinked when his lights went out and his computer dimmed, indicating it was no longer under plug power.

Frowning, he got up and went to look out the window, he'd mostly tuned out the sound of the storm outside, but it was still hovering over head and rattling the windows with rain and thunder.

He glanced at the surrounding buildings, none of the lights were on in any of the windows, and the streetlamps were out.

_Perfect. _

The silence left from the fans and music going out were already pressing in around him and he closed his eyes, blowing out a deep breath.

Resisting the urge to dig his com out of his pocket and contact the others, Hardison went to the closet to find his old boom box and a flashlight.

oooOOOooo

Sophie had been pacing her small apartment for hours on end. To be perfectly honest the power outage had provided a welcome reprieve to the thoughts floating about in her head.

She really hadn't blamed Parker for the stunts she'd pulled at the hospital. She'd had similar thoughts herself, if not a bit more elegant, because leaving Eliot's side even for a moment seemed to take more out of her than she was able to give.

She just needed to see him, needed to make sure he was okay. She knew, of course, that they were smothering him and that was what made him kick them out earlier, but he didn't understand. Couldn't know what it had been like to hear him, one of their team, their _family_ helpless and hurt beneath all that rubble.

Sophie's hand shook as she reached out with the match to light her candles, and she smiled self-depreciatingly.

"Keep it together, Sophie. He's out now." She shook her head, sliding the matches back into her kitchen drawer. "He's probably fine. He's Eliot Spencer for crying out loud, he's perfectly…perfect…even if he _was_ trapped under a building and has always hated the dark and this whole wretched ordeal has probably brought memories back to the surface he would never even dream of talking about…"

She trailed off, staring into the flame flickering silently on her ornate white candle sticks.

"Oh hell with it," she muttered and blew them all out before grabbing them along with a deck of cards and heading for the door.

oooOOOooo

Eliot jerked awake, disoriented and in pain. He frowned and blinked a few times, but the darkness wouldn't dissipate. His heartbeat started to accelerate as he struggled to sit up on the couch without bending his torso, using his hand or moving his leg. Even then the pain was enough to make his stomach roll.

But his main concern was with the darkness and the fact that it _wouldn't go away. _ It wouldn't be the first time his eyesight had decided to take a vacation because of a bad head injury, but he had hoped to never have a repeat performance.

The crack of thunder outside and a flash of lightning briefly lit the room, startling just as much as it relieved him.

At least his eyes were working.

But he took no solace in the fact and his heart rate didn't slow down. Instead his breathing started to come in short gasps that he forced into his lungs with feigned calm.

Who was he trying to fool? Three wars, countless prisons and one too many close calls had taught Eliot at least one thing, he knew a flashback when he had one.

Another crack of thunder far too close for comfort and the floor shook around him, vaulting him back into that shopping mall nearly three weeks before.

He could feel the floor giving way beneath him, the sound of creaking metal in his memory mingled with the flash of lightning and he could swear the walls were starting to come down.

Eliot flailed out blindly when the world tilted to the left, looking for anything to hold onto. He didn't want to fall down there again. He didn't want to be trapped again.

There was a slight pressure on his shoulder and Eliot nearly flew out of his skin, his eyes whipping up toward the ceiling to see how much of it had fallen.

He was almost confused when everything was still in tact.

"Eliot? Eliot you with me?"

The hitter blinked a few more times and realized the pressure he was feeling on both shoulders now, was coming from hands, not debris. And Nate's face came into focus in front of him.

He nodded. "Ye-" his voice gave out and Eliot struggled to swallow, wondering when his mouth had gone so dry.

"Yeah." He tried again, "I'm good."

Nate raised a disbelieving eyebrow and Eliot looked away, suddenly finding the silence of the apartment too much to bear, waiting apprehensively for another crack of thunder.

"What are you doing down here?" He asked, hoping to distract Nate and buy himself some time to get back under control.

"Powers out," Nate answered, thankfully standing to walk away a few feet. He pretended not to notice when Eliot closed his eyes again and took a few deep breaths before speaking.

"I noticed. Any idea when our _landlord _will have it back up again?" He asked, satisfied his voice wasn't shaking as badly.

"You can ask him yourself when he gets up here."

Eliot frowned, "he's coming up here? Why? What part of death don't you people-"

Just then there was a knock on his door, followed immediately by it opening and Hardison inviting himself in.

"I have arrived," the hacker announced with a big grin.

"Dammit Hardison, don't you have generators or something set up for stuff like this?" Eliot growled, a bit more edge in his tone than usual. It was still too damn dark.

Hardison ignored the tone entirely as he settled down on the couch beside Eliot.

"Yeah man, for my computers, but not the whole dang building," he put the small boom box he'd brought with him on the table and flicked it on, a severe weather advisory softly emanating from the speakers.

Eliot's glare on the man softened slightly, the silence a little easier to bear.

"What do-"

The question was cut off by the sound of the door opening again, this time without a knock having preceded it, and Parker appeared inside dressed in a black sweatpants and sweatshirt.

She barely glanced at any of them and walked over to the coffee table in front of Eliot.

The men looked on in surprised silence as the thief pulled candle after candle out of various, inexplicable places on her person, and began setting them up all over the coffee and end tables.

They listened to the calm voice of the weather report while she carefully, efficiently lit each one with a blue cigarette lighter.

Finally, when the entire small space around the couch was bathed in a soft yellow glow, she looked up, staring directly at Eliot.

She smiled, just a bit too wide for the situation.

"Better right?"

Eliot grunted, but he had to admit, his heart wasn't hammering so hard now that he could see for himself that the walls were standing steady and upright.

He gave a nearly imperceptible nod to the thief, who's grin brightened enough to light the entire room on it's own, and rounded the table to sit as close to Eliot as she could without actually hurting him. Another crack of thunder shook the building causing Eliot to tense up painfully and, seeing her chance, Parker leaned up and gently slipped her arms around his neck giving him a careful hug.

She felt Eliot relax and even hesitantly return the gesture and smiled, not pulling away until he did.

"I guess now we're only waiting on-"

Again there was a knock at the door and they all looked expectantly at Sophie when she poked her head in.

The grifter smiled slightly, seeing the already full living room, and came inside, locking the door behind her.

"Seems I'm a bit late for the party," she approached their circle of light and Eliot noticed she had two more half burned candles and a deck of cards.

Parker quickly relieved her of the candles, adding them to the others and Sophie tossed the deck in the air.

"Anyone for a game?"

"Yeah," Hardison nodded, taking the deck from her so she could pull her soft sweater around herself and she slide onto the loveseat beside Nate.

"How about poker?"

Three hands later, all of which Sophie had lost, much to everyone's surprise, Nate decided he was thirsty and disappeared into the kitchen. He came back a moment later with five glasses and a bottle of Jack, which Sophie immediately took away when he sat back down.

"You know Eliot can't have any of this with the pain meds he's on," she said in response to his disgruntled noise.

"So what, that means the rest of us have to suffer?" He asked, taking the bottle back. "Besides, it's not as if he's even taking those things."

"Of course he is," Sophie countered, "I've been giving them to him three times a day."

Parker's giggle made her stop and she turned to look at the other three. Hardison was studiously avoiding her gaze, rearranging the cards in his hand, and Eliot was picking at his cast, a small smirk on his lips.

"You wanker," Sophie exclaimed, "but how? I watch you take them."

Eliot finally looked up at her, a patient but amused, expression on his face.

"Sophie, when you've been in the business as long as I have, with as many enemies who have access to mind altering drugs, you learn a thing or two about making it _look _like you've taken something you haven't."

Hardison was now shaking his head and Parker smiled almost genuinely.

"You're adorable."

Sophie rolled her eyes and sighed, allowing Nate to pour the drinks and then helped him pass out the glasses.

"Fine. Have it your own way."

Eliot smiled and sipped his drink, "I usually do."

It wasn't until four more hands later that that Eliot began to wonder why Sophie had given up so easily.

"Sophie," Eliot dragged his eyes over to her, feeling his eyelids becoming heavy and his movements sluggish. "What'd you do?"

The grifter smiled innocently, ignored him and laid down her cards, "two pair."

"You still lose Soph," Hardison announced, but she shook her head.

"No, I don't think I do."

They all looked at her, and then followed her gaze to Eliot, who was practically sprawled across Parker on the couch. His head lolled back as he attempted to fight intense, drug-induced drowsiness.

"M' g'na may' you pah." Eliot slurred. Sophie just stood, pushed him back on the couch, which was much easier than it would have been otherwise, and smoothed his hair away from his forehead.

"Maybe so, but until then, get your rest tough guy." She patted his chest and Parker helped her pull a soft blanket from his room over his prone form, carefully elevating his injuries the way the doctor had instructed.

When they were finished they turned to look at the boys, all smiling.

Hardison raised his eyebrows and held up the deck, "again?"

Sophie threw one last look at Eliot, his face relaxed in sleep and no longer marred with the bruises and bandages from the hospital. She sighed contentedly.

"Yeah, lets go again."

Hardison dealt the cards and they settled in a circle bathed in candlelight, Eliot's soft snores mingling with the music now playing quietly over the stereo in the background.

As the night wore on the storm moved past, and they all dozed off. Inevitably, one would wake with a start, breathing harsh from a nightmare, and crane their neck to see the hitter, sometimes reaching out to touch his face or rearrange his blanket. Just to be sure it was real, still breathing and safe.

But each time they awoke to find him safe beside them, along with the rest of the team, the knot of worry in their stomachs would loosen, allowing them to fall back to sleep. As the hours passed the stirring decreased, exchanged for a sound sleep that none had experienced since the day Eliot was checked into the hospital.

And when the sun rose the next morning, it shone through the windows of Eliot's apartment, warming the five exhausted thieves all tangled up with one another and sleeping peacefully.

Finally.

_END_


End file.
